Tenebrae
by Very Swampeh
Summary: What kind of world won't even give it's hero a happy ending? In the aftermath of the defeat of the Homunculus, Roy learns that life is even more cruel than he had realized, especially to the dead. Imagined manga ending; character death, angst, blood.
1. That Dark Night

**Hello, everyone! It's Swampeh again, writing away at an incredibly angsty plot that won't leave me alone. Some of you are probably wondering why I'm posting this when I should be working on "Reconstruction", but I don't want to overload it with angst. So this fic's going to get most of the angst out of my system, and then I'll get back to work on my wonderfully happy EdWin fic. :D**

**But about this fic:  
1. It's AU manga ending. Lots of spoilers.  
2. Started writing it before all of the "Promised Day" plotness. So none of that.  
3. For some odd reason, Kimbley and Hohenheim are gone/dead/missing. Ling is not Greed. Hooray.  
4. It's very _very_ angsty. Character death. Blood. 2-chapter-long fight scene. You've been warned.**

**Oh, I have a habit of starting in the middle, having a couple chapters of flashback, then getting to where I started and finishing the fic. Odd, but it's how I roll. **

* * *

Roy clenched his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip so hard it started to bleed. The red liquid dribbled off his chin and dropped steadily into pool already forming beneath him. Even though his eyes were closed, he could feel the blood seeping into his gloves, where it was slowly cooling off and hardening. The blood wasn't even his, and yet he was covered in it; his blue military uniform was almost purple from it.

He could hear the rustling of cloth and some muttered instructions from a couple of feet away, but he didn't open his eyes to look. He didn't want to; he had seen it all already.

His knees were starting to throb from kneeling on the cold concrete floor of the Central sewers, but he didn't shift his position the slightest. There was the sound of boots walking across the cement ground towards him, where they stopped a foot away; Roy could practically feel the person staring at him.

"Roy. Get up, we need to go."

The alchemist's only response was to clench his fists on the ground.

The person sighed angrily and muttered something. "Mustang, pull yourself together! We have to get him out of here and-"

Roy didn't open his eyes when he cut the speaker off. "And what? Take him to Knox?" he spat angrily. "Too late for that, Marco."

The older alchemist was glaring at Roy, he knew it. "We can't run the risk of the military being the ones to do the autopsy! They'll raise questions about the wounds, but Dr. Knox will keep it quiet and fudge the exact cause of death for us."

The Flame Alchemist let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Why? So the military brass can't demote him or something?"

He hadn't been expecting the slap that came flying across his cheek. Roy fell back on his rear, staring Marco in the face, jaw hanging open in surprise. Marco looked livid and ready to rip his head off. "Colonel Mustang, you are an ass," he said in classic military style, complete with a sharp salute.

Roy couldn't think of a suitable retort for that. Instead, he averted his eyes to the ground and exhaled loudly. "Trust me, Marco, I know that."

Silence stretched out between them. Suddenly, a hand entered Roy's field of vision. Surprised, he glanced up at Marco, who gave him a half-hearted smile. "Come on. We've got to get your leg fixed up, too."

Roy accepted the hand and, a little unsteadily, rose to his feet. He made sure to keep his back towards Armstrong, but Marco shook his head. "It's okay; he's…covered." Roy stiffened at the words and went back to chewing madly on his bottom lip. Marco looked like he was ready to slap him again, but thought better of it. "Roy, listen to me. You're going to have to face it eventually-"

"'Face it'? I _have_ faced it, Marco! It happened right in front of me! But do you honestly expect me to just get over the fact that Edward's dead and gone?!"

* * *

He, Edward, Armstrong, and Marco had decided to beat the Homunculi to the chase and attack first. That had meant sneaking out of Gracia's house where everyone had been staying after the events up north near Briggs. It had been a difficult task to get all four of the State Alchemists out without anyone noticing- after all, the house was crammed. Besides the four of them, Al, Winry, Havoc, Hawkeye, Breda, Fuery, Falman, Ling, Ran Fan, Mei, Scar, Kimbley's two chimeras, Gracia, and Elicia had all been staying under the same roof. At first, Roy had assumed it would have been easy for them to slip out in the chaos, but Al had managed to foil those plans, as he had become incredibly clingy and refused to leave Edward's side.

From what Roy understood, Al had pretty much had a heart attack when Kimbley's chimeras had caught up with them, carrying a blood-soaked and recently impaled Ed. Even though Ed had managed to stop the bleeding and save his organs, Al had given the elder Elric a piece of his mind. When Roy saw the young state alchemist for the first time since Edward had left for Briggs, he had been sure to steer away from Alphonse. It looked as if Alphonse had broken Ed's nose, judging from the nasty purple bruise.

But that hadn't been the only change in the Elric brothers. The biggest shocker was that Alphonse was back in his 15-year-old body- a very undernourished and scrawny body. There had been an impromptu party at Gracia's house, where Al was given an entire apple pie to himself, but Ed had spent most of the night on the sofa sleeping off the pain medication Marco had forced into him.

It had been sometime in the night after the party when Armstrong had woken up Roy and dragged him unceremoniously downstairs.

"Wuz happen?" he asked blearily, trying very hard not to trip and wake up the rest of the household. Armstrong's answering glare warned him to keep quiet, so he did while running a hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up.

Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, Armstrong led him into the dark living room, where Roy could make out two other shapes. It took Roy a moment to distinguish that it was Ed and Marco, the former stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed as Marco examined the stab wound by the light of a lamp.

Roy had never seen the gash that the metal pole had caused, and morbid curiosity propelled him closer to the couch to stand behind Marco. Edward's shirt was off, revealing a tanned, muscular chest. Roy's eyes fell on the automail port on the teen's shoulder first and he fought to control a wince at the large assortment of scars and screws from the surgery. His eyes traveled slowly down to where Ed had been impaled.

The black, jagged circle was almost directly above Ed's stomach and dark scars emanated from the wound, showing where skin had been ripped off when the pole had been removed. The circle was ringed with red with some odd green splotches, and Roy assumed that it was infected. As he watched, Marco pulled a syringe out of a bag at his feet and filled it from a bottle in his other hand. After returning the bottle to the bag, the older man positioned the needle above the wound, the other hand firmly on Ed's chest. Ed tensed as the needle slid in, but didn't show any other sign that he was aware of what was going on.

"Done," Marco said quietly, which gave Mustang a chance to back up and appear as if he hadn't been watching the whole ordeal. Edward would spill his blood if he knew that Mustang had been watching him receive medical attention.

As Marco stood up and put the syringe away, Mustang crossed his arms across his chest. "So what was I dragged down here at this hour for?" he asked testily. He had been having a very enjoyable dream that involved Hawkeye and a plate of spaghetti before Armstrong had woken him.

It was Ed who spoke up after putting his black shirt back on and sitting up. "We have to go after Father and the Homunculi tonight," he said flatly.

Roy raised an eyebrow at Ed's tone. "…Tonight? Any particular reason for the rush?" he inquired.

"We have to beat them to the chase. Things are only going to get worse as time goes on. They won't be expecting us, either," the blond replied, hands gripping the edge of the couch that he was sitting on.

The black haired man shot a glance at Marco, who looked very displeased, and then to Armstrong, who looked worried. Roy licked his lips before glaring at Edward. "That's all very true, but you can't even walk properly, Fullmetal," he stated.

Edward let out a growl. "That's not true!" he hissed, voice a barely-controlled whisper. To prove his point, the blond stumbled to his feet and stood unsteadily, glaring at Mustang. "See?"

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "So you can stand. That doesn't mean you can fight. Your body's still in shock from the attack, you've lost a massive amount of blood, and Marco's given you enough drugs to knock out a horse," he spat, hands on his hips.

It seemed Ed could not find a good enough retort for that and allowed Marco to push him gently back onto the couch.

"Edward's right, though," Marco said quietly, a somber expression on his face. "The more time we spend waiting for something to happen, the stronger they'll get. We don't have much time to waste."

Roy winced at the truth in Marco's words. The Homunculi weren't bothering to keep themselves hidden anymore. Envy had attacked Marco in the middle of an Ishbalan refugee camp. Wrath had revealed himself without a fight. Sloth had broken into the Briggs fortress. Pride had confronted Hawkeye in the middle of Bradley's mansion.

That only meant that the Homunculi were ready to wrap up their plan.

A tense silence followed, broken only by the creaks and groans of the house and its sleeping habitants. Roy ran a hand through his hair, trying to sort out his thoughts. It seemed that Marco and Ed were ready to get it over with, and Armstrong would probably agree to go along. That left him. They wouldn't go if he didn't; the four of them, the last of the State Alchemists, had to go together.

They were outnumbered, too. There was Father, Pride, Wrath, Sloth, and Gluttony against the four of them. "We'll be outnumbered. Maybe we could recruit more alchemists…?" he suggested, glancing at the others.

Edward snorted "Who would we recruit? Scar? He'd be more than willing to help us since it would give him the opportunity to blow our skulls in and blame it on the Homunculi."

Marco tilted his head. "There's Mei. She's an accomplished alchemist."

It was Armstrong who spoke up this time. "No. She's too scared of Father to be of much help. She'd probably be killed before the battle got anywhere." Marco let out a grunt of agreement.

Roy frowned. "What about Alphonse?" he asked. As soon as the words were out, he slapped a hand over his mouth. He had _not _just said that out loud.

But he had, and the next thing he knew, Roy was flat on his back, head slamming onto the floor, with a furious Ed pinning him down. "Don't you dare drag Al into this! He just got his body back, and there is no way in hell that he's going to fight!" he hissed, automail hand digging into Roy's shoulder.

"Alright! Edward, get off!" Roy growled, shoving the enraged teen off of him. "You probably woke someone up with all that racket!" he said, rubbing the back of his head as he stood up.

Ed opened his mouth when a creak on the staircase echoed through the room. The four alchemists swung around the face it as Hawkeye reached the bottom of the stairs, gun in hand, aimed at them and ready to fire.

The five started at each other before Hawkeye lowered the gun and frowned. "I thought I heard something down here," she said, stalking over. Roy heard Ed shuffle back to the couch and out of firing range.

"There's nothing to worry about, Hawkeye," Mustang said calmly, trying to hide his fear. If the lieutenant knew what they had been planning, they'd be lucky to have all their body parts when the sun rose.

"Oh, really? Then please tell me what you were all doing down here and what you were arguing about?" she asked icily, one finger stroking the barrel of her gun.

Marco stepped forward. "There's no reason to be so suspicious, Hawkeye. Edward, Armstrong, and I sleep down here, you know. Roy came down for some water while I was working on Edward's wound," he said, motioning over his shoulder at the blond alchemist, who had a hand clamped over the gash and was glaring at Marco's bag. Apparently Edward was a decent actor. "As you can imagine, an argument broke out, and the Colonel felt the need to come take part in it."

Roy had to fight to nod in agreement and suppress his surprise at the same time. Who would have thought that Marco was such a good liar? But there was truth in the alibi: Marco had forced Ed to sleep downstairs near the kitchen so that the doctor would have easy water access during the night if it was needed for the wound. Armstrong had valiantly agreed to set up camp downstairs as well so that there would be more room for everyone else upstairs. And Roy did have an unexplainable habit of waking up in the middle of the night for a drink, though sometimes it wasn't exactly water. An argument breaking out that involved Edward and needles wasn't farfetched at all, and Roy sticking his nose in and making it worse was almost to be expected.

Hawkeye didn't seem as wary, but she still didn't look convinced. "Well, you were starting to make a racket. I thought someone was trying to break in," she said stiffly.

"No intruders, Hawkeye. Go back to bed and get some sleep," Roy said smoothly, turning the lieutenant around and pushing her back to the stairs. "Tell anyone who woke up that we're sorry."

Hawkeye gave him a death glare before making her way up the stairs. The four alchemists were silent until the sound of a door closing was heard. There were exhales of relief as Roy staggered back to a chair and flopped down. "That was too close," he moaned.

The four sat in silence before Marco sighed loudly. "Well, Roy?" he asked quietly, eyes narrowing at the younger alchemist.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Marco was talking about. Roy stared at the ceiling in silence, as if the white paint could solve all his problems.

Finally he stood up, one hand sliding into his pocket and grasping the pocket watch. He glanced at Edward, who was gazing at him intently. Their eyes met for a split second before Roy looked away.

"Let's go."

* * *

**YES. I KILLED ED. I DIDN'T TELL YOU HOW YET. I guess you'll have to keep reading. Aren't I evil? **

**A little tidbit about the title because it does have some significance to the story. "Tenebrae" means "darkness". It's the word used to describe Good Friday in Christianity and is to remind us of the darkness of sin and death.  
And I'm not trying to make anyone Christian, alright? I just wanted to explain the title a bit. Don't flame for it.**

**Review for love! ;D**


	2. Sewer Rats

**Here's chapter 2! Thanks to the two people who added this to their alert list; I love ya'll! **

It took a couple of minutes of quick planning to determine the best way to sneak out of the Hughes' house. Marco pulled out a piece of paper and pen and did a quick sketch of the house's layout. The four of them leaned over the table as the Crystal Alchemist began to write in the names of the occupants.

"Alright. Edward, myself, and Armstrong sleep down here." Their names were written in the box that represented the living room. "Gracia and Hawkeye are in the master bedroom. Alphonse, Winry, Elicia, and Mei are in Elicia's room…" Marco paused to scribble in the names. "Then Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Falman, and Roy are in the guest room, and Scar and the chimeras are in the shed out in the backyard." Marco paused, pen hovering over the paper. "Where did Ling and Ran Fan spend the night?" he asked.

"They're on the roof, I think," Edward replied, glancing up at the ceiling as if one of the two were hanging on the ceiling, listening to their plans. And with those two, the idea was not that unlikely.

Armstrong let out what sounded like a growl as Marco wrote the last two names down. "If that's the case, then we'll have to find some way to get away from them. They'll be taking shifts to keep guard, I'm sure. We'll be spotted."

Roy ground his teeth in frustration. Armstrong was right- Ling and Ran Fan would be watching any signs of movement, and if they were to slip out the house, one of the two Xinginese would spot them immediately. "Disguises won't work; they know who's in the house. And we told everyone not to leave the house at night under any circumstances."

Edward let out a grunt and began to pace, one arm clamped on his wound, jaw clenched as he thought. Roy could feel tension practically pouring off the teen, and the ticking of the clock on the wall helped to remind them of how much time they were wasting trying to figure out how to avoid their unofficial sentries.

Minutes passed in a blur before Edward suddenly slapped his forehead with his flesh hand. "Marco, do you think you could drug some cold chicken?" he asked, eyes glinting.

Marco stared for a moment before he let out a low laugh. "Edward, you're a genius. Of course, I've got plenty of drugs for knocking people out; you should know," he said, bending down to rummage through the bag.

As Edward snickered, the pieces slowly fell into place for Roy. Ling and Ran Fan were notorious for eating any and all food that was put in front of them, and wouldn't hesitate to finish some of the chicken leftover from dinner. It would only take a couple of minutes for the drugs to kick in, and they'd be out for the night.

Edward had already vanished into the kitchen (Roy suspected he was getting some non-drugged chicken for himself) and Marco was filling two syringes with liquid. It didn't take long for Ed to return with two chicken legs in his hands and a wing clenched between his teeth. Marco grabbed the two legs and began to inject them as Ed tore away at the wing. Less than a minute later, the chicken was successfully drugged and Ed belched quietly as he gnawed on the clean bone. Roy didn't think he'd ever seen someone eat so fast without choking, but Ed _was_ a prodigy.

With an annoyed and slightly disgusted look, Marco handed the chicken legs to Edward. "Here. Bring it up to the roof; you'll be the quietest."

The blonde nodded and took the chicken before slipping out the backdoor to take the water pipe up the side of the house. Marco shook his head in Ed's direction before picking up his medical supplies again. "You two might want to make sure you have everything," he said to Armstrong and Roy.

Armstrong began to sparkle and Marco took a hasty step back. "I am ready to serve the good country of Amestris and defeat the Homunculi and their plan!" he said, making to tear off his shirt, but Roy interrupted the bigger alchemist.

"I'm going to have to go back upstairs for a moment. I need my gloves and some more clothes. I don't fancy fighting in my sleepwear," he explained, heading towards the stairs.

"Roy Mustang! There is no need to!" Suddenly, Armstrong was blocking Roy's path, the sparkles more numerous and much brighter. "I, Alex Louis Armstrong will fetch what you desire-"

"Armstrong, there's no need-"

"-All without waking your fellow subordinates!" They will never-"

"-I can get them myse-"

"-Suspect that anyone was ever up there! I will-"

"Armstrong! You're too big to be quiet!"

"-Use the famous Armstrong Family Sneaking Technique-"

"Oh, hell, not passed down-"

"Passed down from generation to generation!" finished the large alchemist, and he struck a pose and his flexed his muscles as the shirt vanished. Then he was gone, sneaking up the stairs.

Roy had to lean against the wall. _This must be what it feels like to be brainwashed,_ he thought weakly, feeling his eyes twitching and his legs starting to shake. "There should be a restraining order on Armstrong," he muttered, shaking his head. Across the room, Marco let out low laugh.

In no time at all, Armstrong was back, Roy's gloves, pants, boots, and jacket in his hands. Roy took them, muttering under his breath about Armstrong's dramatics, and headed to the bathroom, where he quickly changed.

When he returned to the living room, Edward was back, looking very pleased with himself. "It worked like a charm, Marco. They took it without a second thought and were out in no time flat," he said as he pulled his black jacket on. Roy couldn't help but notice that the blonde wasn't wearing his gloves, which was a sure sign that the fight was going to be ugly.

Marco pushed aside the curtains at the window and hastily glanced up and down the street before letting them fall back. "Coast is clear, but there's a full moon. We'll have to be careful."

Edward frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the stairs. "Nobody's heard any movement up there, have they?" he asked quietly.

"It was full of snores when I was up there. I don't think anyone was awake," Armstrong replied. "If we're going to go it should be now. Are we all ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Roy muttered as Marco nodded and Edward grunted. The Flame Alchemist glanced at the clock. _1:15. It's earlier than I thought. We might be done before breakfast. _

Armstrong made a show of opening the front door noiselessly, all the while whispering about the Armstrong family's famous "Silent Door-Opening Technique". The ordeal would have taken much longer if not for Edward's sudden, but quiet, outburst of swearing about the amount of time they were wasting. It was at times like this where Roy was thankful for Edward's short temper.

It was silent out on the streets of Central, but the group still kept to the shadows as Edward led the way to the entrance of Father's headquarters. "Won't going in the front door be a little obvious?" Roy asked as they crossed a street and headed into the darker section of the city.

He received a death glare from the small blonde. "Well, Colonel Smartass, that's the only way to get in, unless you would like to blow up the street and wander around the sewers for a couple of hours. I'm sure they wouldn't notice us then," Edward replied sardonically, rolling his eyes.

Roy scowled. Only Edward could turn an innocent question like that against him and make him feel stupid. "I was just asking. Chill, would you?" The rest of the trip was silent.

It was about half an hour later when Edward stopped in front of a run-down building. The door was hanging on by its top hinge and the bricks were crumbling, leaving holes in the walls. Roy raised an eyebrow at the rubble strewn around the building. It wasn't the most high-scale place for an evil mastermind trying to blow up a country to make his lair.

Ed glanced around, checking behind them before pushing the door open. It squeaked loudly, but it was drowned out by a sudden rumble of thunder. The four glanced up in surprise to see thick, dark rain clouds rolling across the sky. Roy winced; the cliché-ness of it all almost hurt.

'_You're useless in the rain, Sir.'_

Hawkeye's words came unbidden to the Colonel's mind and he bit his tongue to keep from groaning out loud. '_Her words better not come true_,' Roy thought grimly, tearing his eyes away from the sky. "So are we going in any time soon? I thought we wanted to do this tonight," he asked dryly, smirking at Ed, who glared back and shoved the door open a little further before slipping inside. Marco followed, Roy falling into step behind him, and Armstrong bringing up the rear.

Surprisingly, they didn't need any light down in the sewers. After reaching the bottom of the short stairs, the group found themselves walking down the sidewalks next to the actual stream of sewage. There were electrical lights scattered about, some burnt out and others sputtering, but most still functioning. It was oddly quiet, save for their footsteps and the rush of water, and Roy noticed that even the rats were gone.

It was just too empty.

There was a slight chill in the air, and Marco pulled his jacket closer around him while unconsciously tracing the lines of the transmutation circles etched into his palms. Halfway through one of them, he paused and glanced down at it as if he had just remembered something. "Hold on," he whispered and began to dig in one of his pockets.

Edward stopped and turned around, curious, and Mustang felt Armstrong leaning over his shoulder to see what Marco was doing. After a moment, the alchemist pulled out three silver necklaces, each with a circular disk at the bottom. On each side was a transmutation circle, etched in the metal. "They're circles for destroying Stones," Marco said quietly as he handed them out. "Activate them, and then touch the Homunculus. It should do the trick."

"Keep them hidden. As of now, they only know that you have one, Marco," Roy said, slipping his under his shirt. The other two followed suit wordlessly.

"It's not that far now. The chimeras that guard the door should be around the next bend," Edward said, turning and creeping forward. At the corner, he quickly transmuted his arm into its trademark blade before setting his jaw and peeking around the corner. He stayed that way for so long that Mustang wondered if he had been shot with some kind of paralyzing dart or something of the sort. He tapped Ed's shoulder, not trusting himself to look around the corner.

Ed jumped slightly and turned to the other three with an utterly unnerved look on his face. "They're not there."

"What?"

"They're not there," Ed repeated, stepping around the corner, into the open, and pointing down the corridor.

Nonplussed, Roy stepped out to stand next to the blonde and found himself blinking in confusion.

Where there should have been a dozen chimeras, all ready to fight, there was nothing but empty space, with two large steel doors looming down at them. Marco and Armstrong stood next to them, and four stared at the doors for a lengthy moment before Edward shook his head quickly.

"Gluttony must have eaten them all," he said casually and began to head for the doors. The stiffness in his stride was the only indicator as to how nervous the young alchemist was and Roy found himself hurrying to catch up, the wariness spreading like a disease.

A couple of feet from the doors, Roy stopped and allowed Ed to walk right up to the doors. The blonde quietly pressed his ear against the door, eyes narrowed as he strained to hear any noises from the other side. Yet another long silence stretched out and Roy licked his lips impatiently as Ed finally pushed himself away from the doors, a frown on his face as he glared at the metal.

"It's silent… I don't think they're in there," he growled furiously.

Roy swore silently. Of all the days the Homunculi could have chosen to take a vacation, it had to be this one. They wouldn't be able to slip back into the house unnoticed, either. Someone had probably woken up by this point and noticed that they were gone. Hopefully it wasn't Alphonse, who would know without a doubt where they had gone and would come looking for them. "Well, should we investigate the lair? We might be able to dig up some-"

"I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," growled a voice from behind. Roy whirled around, cursing mentally as he saw Bradley walk out of the shadows behind them, sword drawn and eye patch gone. They had been so absorbed in getting in that they had forgotten to check behind them, and now they were cornered.

There was a tense silence as the four stared down Wrath, debating the best course of action. A flash of black and gold flew by Roy towards the Homunculus and Roy belatedly realized it was Ed.

Before the young alchemist could make contact, there was a roar from further down the sewers and everything exploded.

* * *

**And the fight begins! Review, please. Seriously, do it. You know you want to.**

* * *


	3. Thicker Than Water

**Chapter 3! Thank you, thank you, thank you to my reviewers and everyone who added this story to their alerts. It makes me happy **

Saying that everything exploded was an ideal way to describe the way Gluttony, Sloth, and Pride came into the fight. The walls on either side collapsed as Gluttony came charging out of one and Sloth from another. Marco fell into fighting the round Homunculus, and Armstrong to Sloth, who seemed to have abandoned his laziness for the sake of the fight.

Roy made to charge towards Wrath, who was locked in a swordfight with Edward, but the steel doors behind him were suddenly blown off their hinges and into the fray. Roy managed to dodge, but was soaked from the waves of sewage that the falling doors raised.

He glanced over his shoulder and felt his stomach drop. Salem Bradley was standing in the doorway, head tilted curiously, eyes wide and innocent. The two stared at each other in silence before the young boy suddenly grinned and black hands erupted from his shadow.

_'Idiot! That's Pride!'_ Roy screamed mentally and backpedaled as the hands began to head his way.

"Mustang! Take Wrath!"

Surprised, Roy turned around, again, to come face-to-face with Edward. The blonde's black jacket was torn in several spots along his right arm and the automail glinted through the tears. Behind him, Wrath was struggling to detangle himself from a mass of twisted wires that Edward had alchemized around him.

"What? Why?"

Edward scowled at him for about the millionth time that day. "I can get rid of Pride easier than you can. And besides, don't you want the pleasure of clearing your way to the top?"

Edward had a point. Killing Wrath would be plenty enjoyable for him and Edward had a better chance of getting close enough to Pride to deal the damage needed. "Fine. Just try not to make a mess," he replied sarcastically before running towards Wrath, dodging out of the way of the fallen blocks from the recently destroyed walls.

He slid to a halt and cracked his knuckles, thankful that he had invested in getting new gloves that dried out very quickly. Once in firing distance, he snapped, and the mass of wires and the single Homunculus inside erupted into flames. Around him, he could roars of pain and shouted swearwords echoing off the walls as the other three fights raged behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Roy charged closer, one hand pulling the necklace out of his shirt, the other positioned for yet another snap.

The fight had begun.

Roy watched grimly as Wrath reconstructed himself after another onslaught of flames. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get close enough to the Homunculus to destroy the Stone inside.

Wrath glared at him, sword raised and the two began to warily circle each other. Roy tensed as he stumbled over a submerged hunk of rock and was forced to back up several steps as the Homunculus darted forward. He snapped instinctively, but Bradley dodged, a smirk on his face.

"That was sloppy, Mustang. I hope that you're not getting tired," he chided, smirking confidently at the Flame Alchemist.

Roy growled under his breath and rolled his shoulders nervously. He had lost track of time the moment they had gone down into sewers, but he was pretty sure it had been at least two hours. Unlike the Homunculi, he didn't have a powerful Stone to fuel him forever and he was getting tired. The blood loss was not helping, and the cuts from Wrath's sword were starting to burn a little. Hopefully the sword hadn't been laced with poison.

Wrath began to stalk closer, eye trained on Roy, and he was reminded of a giant cat about to spring on its prey. He raised his hand to snap, and, to his horror, saw that it was shaking.

'_Damn_,' was all he could think as Wrath pounced and he snapped, but the flame missed by almost a foot. The Homunculus tackled him and two fell into the shallow sewer water, effectively soaking Roy's gloves.

Bradley's hand was at his neck and the sword was raised, ready to plunge into his chest. Roy sputtered a handful of curses at Wrath, who only shook his head in amusement. "You humans are something else. I still can't figure out why you came down here, looking for a fight. Good thing I saw you coming or things could have gotten a lot nastier," he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling happily as another one of the walls collapsed from a fight. In his position, Roy couldn't tell what had caused it, but as a disintegrating Gluttony went flying across the room, Roy figured Marco had won his battle.

Wrath watched the remains of the rotund Homunculus fall into the waters, a bemused frown on his face. "Well, that was different. No matter, though, you're time's up, Must-"

The Fuhrer was cut off abruptly as Marco slammed into him, hands on Bradley's ribcage. The aging doctor was covered in blood and wheezing loudly, but the force of the impact shoved Wrath off of Roy and into the water.

Roy sat up hastily, eyes wide. "Marco! What the hell?!" he exclaimed, shaking water from his gloves as he turned to see what was going on.

The elderly alchemist was thrashing in the sewer water with Wrath, and alchemical sparks were erupting from the Homunculus's chest. Marco was trying to destroy the Stone, but it looked like Wrath had figured that out. Growling loudly, Roy ran towards them, hands clapping around the medallion in the process. A flash of pale blue light erupted from between them, signifying the successful activation of the array. At that moment, Wrath ripped free from Marco and stood up, back towards the approaching Roy.

It was almost too easy.

His hands smashed into the Fuhrer's back, and the Homunculi howled as the activation began. Roy found that his hands were stuck to the back and despite the violent alchemical wind that swept around them and seemed to want to tear him apart, he could not move an inch. Wrath's shrieking escalated and Roy clenched his eyes shut as his ears began to ring painfully. He could dimly hear Marco shouting at him, but he couldn't understand what the doctor was saying.

Then his right leg exploded in pain. He tore his eyes open in time to see Bradley's sword get ripped out of his thigh from the raging winds. The Homunculi was nothing more than a skeleton with a couple of ligaments attached, and was deteriorating rapidly, but clearly the Fuhrer had used the last of his strength to try and stab Roy.

Good thing the limited amount of mobility meant Wrath had only been able to reach his leg and not his chest or head. There was a final, sucking gust of wind and Wrath collapsed into a pile of dust at Roy's feet.

He and Marco stared at it for a long moment before Roy burst into laughter. "Holy crap, Marco! I just assassinated the Fuhrer!" he exclaimed joyfully, clapping a hand over his face as the snickering continued.

Marco rolled his eyes and shook his head, a smile on his own face. "Makes it that much easier to get into that nice big office, doesn't it?" he asked wryly , watching Roy with obvious amusement.

"Gentlemen! We have been victorious!" crowed Armstrong suddenly, appearing out of nowhere from behind Marco. The shirt was gone and he was bleeding and bruised, but the Strong Arm Alchemist still sparkled and flexed triumphantly before proceeding to grab each of the other alchemists in a bear hug. "We have saved Amestris from certain doom! We will go down in history as the ones who saved our glorious country from defeat and have ensured peace for many years to come!"

Roy struggled in the iron grip of the blonde alchemist before wheezing "Armstrong! Can't breathe!" He was instantly released and fell into an undignified heap in the water. "I take it you got rid of Sloth, then?" he asked, shaking his hands to rid the gloves of water.

The sparkles only seemed to grow in number. "I did, indeed! He stood no chance against the Armstrong family's Homunculi Destroying Technique, for which I am the creator of!" Armstrong declared happily.

Roy snorted and staggered to his feet, wincing as his right leg began to tremble. He leaned against one of the large pieces of concrete, fighting another cringe, and began to stretch the leg out to test the damage.

"Looks like it's just a deep cut. Should heal with time," Marco said as he examined the wound. "Try to keep off it."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Alright. I'll try not to walk anymore," he mumbled sarcastically. The three stood in a relieved silence before Roy suddenly stiffened and glanced around, eyes narrowing. "Anyone seen Ed?" he asked.

Armstrong and Marco exchanged worried glances. Marco slowly shook his head, but Armstrong pointed in the direction of the doors. "I saw him and Pride fighting a little ways inside the doorway," he replied, voice rumbling in the dead silence.

Roy glanced over his shoulder at the gaping hole left by the doors and swore under his breath. Chills raced up his spine, almost a warning that something bad was happening. Without a word, he turned and raced through the doorway, ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg. That could wait; he had to find Edward first.

Father's lair had been completely demolished. Roy could recognize Ed's work anywhere and mentally winced at the destruction. The young alchemist had gone on one hell of a rampage. The walls had been torn down, and pipes spewing water all over the place- Roy found himself standing in ankle-deep sewage. Beneath him, the ground seemed to have exploded; large pieces of cement were scattered like miniature mountains, which obscured Roy's view.

"You always have to be over-dramatic," Roy grumbled as he quickly made his way through the mess, ignoring the shouts from Marco for him to stop using his leg- he was going to make it worse!

After a couple of minutes of searching, Roy found himself losing hope in finding the young alchemist. He couldn't move any of the rubble without possibly creating an avalanche, and he hadn't been able to find any trace of Edward- no clothing, scraps of automail, or even blood.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the unmistakable iron tang of blood crept into his nose. Roy pivoted, trying to find the source of the smell. He stepped forward, and the smell instantly became stronger. Encouraged, he darted forward, the stench getting more and more prominent.

He flew around the corner of one of the large pieces of wreckage and slammed to a halt in a puddle of blood, eyes wide. "No. No! EDWARD!"

* * *

**More angst :D**

**Review. Please don't make me beg... ;;**


	4. It Ends Tonight

**I must have written this chapter at least six times. Ugh, it's still not to my liking, but I couldn't find the right words. Sorry for making you guys wait so long, but this is kind of the climax/midpoint of the story and I wanted it to be exactly how I was seeing it in my head. Blah.**

**This chapter is rated M for disturbing images, blood, death, and corpse-hugging. A little bit of Parental!RoyxEd, too. Oh, goody!**

Roy froze, jaw falling open and a broken sob breaking out of his mouth. His eyes were lying, they had to be. As he stumbled across the small chunks of concrete scattered in the blood puddle, eyes locked on the scene in front of him, he caught himself praying, actually _praying_, that it was all a lie.

But it wasn't- that he knew the instant his knees connected with the floor, sending up a small spray of blood. Roy knelt next to the body, one hand extended hesitantly over it, trembling. He didn't want to touch, to be the one to find out if Ed was still alive or not.

His rational mind was telling him it was impossible; the amount of blood pooling around him was enough for a man much bigger than Ed to bleed to death. Not to mention that Ed was short two limbs, which would have cut down his blood volume even _more_…

Roy wondered how Ed ever managed to walk away from half the fights he did; the blonde was always covered in cuts and gashes that all bled freely.

The man shook his head firmly, forcing himself to focus on the present. If Ed was still alive (and he could be, the shrimp was too damn stubborn to die), he would need medical attention instantly, so no time to waste. He pulled the glove off his hand and gently placed it against Ed's neck, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing.

Roy bit back a moan- he couldn't lose it, not now- and moved to Ed's face, checking to see if by some freakish twist of science, the younger alchemist was still breathing.

Again, nothing.

He couldn't say that he wasn't expecting the worst. Edward's body had been… Roy stared helplessly at the corpse, mind floundering around for the proper word to describe it.

…Shredded. Yes, that was a good word to use. Lacerations covered Ed's flesh limbs, while the automail looked like it had gone through a garbage disposal. The metal limbs were reduced to practically nothing but the skeleton; the outer plates that gave the appendages shape were long gone, leaving the snapped wires spilling out on the floor randomly. The leg port had been torn halfway out, exposing- Roy's stomach flipped over and he swallowed heavily- the end of Ed's femur.

Apparently, Ed had taken a number of hits to the head; the normally golden blonde hair was now almost completely red with blood. There was a gash across his left eye, crusting it shut, along with a handful of cuts littered across his brow.

But the worst was Fullmetal's torso. Roy had seen plenty of painful ways to die, but this was definitely pretty high on the list. Ed's chest had practically been ripped open, the skin and muscles hanging off the body like ribbons in some places. Roy didn't look too hard, but it only took a glance to pick out what was more than likely Ed's stomach and liver, both pretty beat up-looking themselves. The ribcage was no better. Practically every rib was cracked or broken in some way, and the lungs were pierced in multiple places.

It was heart-wrenching to see Edward like that. The People's Alchemist, completely beaten and broken, taken down by some immortal ten-year-old kid that was really the oldest, strongest, of the Homunculi, Pride.

Wait, Pride. Where was Pride?

Roy jerked around, fumbling with his gloves, trying to get them back on as he surveyed the area. If he ever got his hands on that son of a bitch, he was going to char him and that damned Stone so much there wouldn't be enough ashes leftover to fill a matchbox.

His scanning proved fruitless and Roy ground his teeth together. Pride must have escaped, left Central. Didn't matter; he'd find him, if it took him the rest of his-

The thoughts stopped as his eyes fell on a small pile of dust a little way away from Edward's body. His eye twitched and Roy let out a laugh that was half a moan. Of course. Ed wouldn't die without taking a Homunculus with him. "They should have called you the Martyr Alchemist," Roy told the cold, blood-covered body quietly, rubbing a hand through his black hair.

He could practically see the scene as if it were unfolding in front of him. Pride grabbing Ed with those arms, wrapping them tightly, tight enough to crack ribs, around the blonde as Ed activated the circle around his neck. The struggle must have gone on for a while, for Ed to gain injuries like he had. Then somehow- Roy couldn't even begin to imagine how- Edward would have gotten close, just close enough to Pride to touch him with a finger, and blast the Homunculus apart. The recoil would have been enough for the arms around Ed's torso to shred his flesh like they did, and the alchemical winds would have flung the blonde to the ground, where he cracked his head on the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious and then bled to death.

Ed had to have been knocked out, or he would have done something, like what he had done to his impaling wound, to keep himself alive. He had too much to live for- Al, Winry, an actual _future_- to just let himself bleed out in the bowels of Central's sewers.

The realization of what had just happened hit Roy like a sledgehammer to the chest, and the next thing he knew, he had Ed's corpse pressed against his chest in a hug, his head buried in Edward's bloody hair. Roy didn't even notice he was crying until the blood began to wash out of Ed's hair, once again revealing its original gold color.

"I can't do anything right," Roy mumbled, almost like it was an apology. He heard a crack of thunder from outside and grimaced. Yes, he _was_ useless in the rain, just like Hawkeye had told him all those years ago.

Years… Roy frowned. Had it really been so long since Scar had cornered Ed and blow his arm off? Back then, they hadn't even known about the Homunculi, their plan, anything. Roy was just a lazy womanizer who wanted to be the leader of Amestris, and Ed had just been an annoying, height-complexed brat who wanted to get his little brother's body back.

Damn. He felt old.

He shifted on the cement, Ed's body still cradled in his arms. His "soldier-mind" was starting to catch up with him and he glanced around. Where were Marco and Armstrong? How were they going to get Ed out of here without the press catching wind of it?

But the most important question made his gut twist painfully and he instinctively clutched Edward tighter. The very thought of the question made him shiver he swallowed nervously, glancing over his shoulder like an animal that was being hunted, but couldn't find the hunter.

_What the bloody hell was he supposed to tell Alphonse?_

"ROY! Dammit, where are you!?"

Roy's head jerked up at the call. "Over here!" he hollered back, not really sure where exactly "here" was. But whatever. He had a more pressing problem to mull over. The sound of approaching footsteps brought him out of his thoughts ("Sorry, Al. Pride shredded your brother to pieces." No, a little too blunt. "Al, your Brother had to go somewhere for a while." Definitely no; Al would see right through that…) He glanced up as Marco and Armstrong skidded to a halt, the latter almost tripping over the older doctor. They gawked at the scene; Armstrong looked ready to cry. Roy could only imagine what they looked like- him, holding Edward like he was just sleeping while the blonde continued to leak blood (there sure was a lot of the stuff) all over the place, and the little pile of ash a couple of feet away.

Marco found his voice first. "Roy, he's…?" the alchemist couldn't even get the word out as he pointed weakly at Ed's form.

Roy nodded stiffly and the last mental barricade broke. He didn't even realize that he still had any still up, but he let out a strangled, half-controlled sob and accidentally dropped Ed's body. The other two gasped loudly now that they could see the true extent of the damage. Armstrong did burst into tears this time, but Marco silently grit his teeth and bent to do an examination, being the doctor that he was.

Roy, meanwhile, was hunched over on the ground, staring blankly in the blood puddle left by Edward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marco doing what he could to make Ed's body more presentable, which basically consisted of placing the shredded pieces of skin back over the torso. The doctor motioned for Armstrong to come over and whispered something to the larger alchemist. Armstrong turned to a hunk of rock and slammed his fist into it; there was a flash from the transmutation and the Strong Arm Alchemist slowly pulled a pale grey cloth and a couple of leather strips from the stone.

A body bag. And the belts to keep it wrapped.

Roy clenched his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip so hard it started to bleed. The red liquid dribbled off his chin and dropped steadily into pool already forming beneath him. Even though his eyes were closed, he could feel the blood seeping into his gloves, where it was slowly cooling off and hardening. The blood wasn't even his, and yet he was covered in it; his blue military uniform was almost purple from it.

He could hear the rustling of cloth and some muttered instructions from a couple of feet away, but he didn't open his eyes to look. He didn't want to; he had seen it all already.

His knees were starting to throb from kneeling on the cold concrete floor of the Central sewers, but he didn't shift his position the slightest. There was the sound of boots walking across the cement ground towards him, where they stopped a foot away; Roy could practically feel the person staring at him.

"Roy. Get up, we need to go."

The alchemist's only response was to clench his fists on the ground.

The person sighed angrily and muttered something. "Mustang, pull yourself together! We have to get him out of here and-"

Roy didn't open his eyes when he cut the speaker off. "And what? Take him to Knox?" he spat angrily. "Too late for that, Marco."

The older alchemist was glaring at Roy, he knew it. "We can't run the risk of the military being the ones to do the autopsy! They'll raise questions about the wounds, but Dr. Knox will keep it quiet and fudge the exact cause of death for us."

The Flame Alchemist let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Why? So the military brass can't demote him or something?"

He hadn't been expecting the slap that came flying across his cheek. Roy fell back on his rear, staring Marco in the face, jaw hanging open in surprise. Marco looked livid and ready to rip his head off. "Colonel Mustang, you are an ass," he said in classic military style, complete with a sharp salute.

Roy couldn't think of a suitable retort for that. Instead, he averted his eyes to the ground and exhaled loudly. "Trust me, Marco, I know that."

Silence stretched out between them. Suddenly, a hand entered Roy's field of vision. Surprised, he glanced up at Marco, who gave him a half-hearted smile. "Come on. We've got to get your leg fixed up, too."

Roy accepted the hand and, a little unsteadily, rose to his feet. He made sure to keep his back towards Armstrong, but Marco shook his head. "It's okay; he's…covered." Roy stiffened at the words and went back to chewing madly on his bottom lip. Marco looked like he was ready to slap him again, but thought better of it. "Roy, listen to me. You're going to have to face it eventually-"

"'Face it'? I have faced it, Marco! I'm the one who found him! But do you honestly expect me to just get over the fact that Edward's dead and gone?!"

Marco looked surprised at the outburst, but didn't say anything in retaliation. Instead he nodded to Armstrong. "I think you're going to have to carry him out," he said somberly, glancing at the wrapped lump over Roy's shoulder.

Armstrong rumbled in agreement and began to pace over to collect the body.

"No," Roy growled, turning around to face Armstrong, who was bent over Ed, prepared to pick him up. He stalked over, ignoring the blood stains that had already formed on the fabric.

"But your leg!" Marco protested, grabbing Roy's shoulder as the Flame Alchemist gathered the body into his arms once again.

"Screw my leg. I'll carry him out," Roy said firmly, turning on his heel and trudging out of the lair, past the dislodged doors and down through the sewers. Marco was close on his heels, muttering darkly and casting nervous glances over his shoulder. Armstrong had taken the lead, obviously intent on acting as the scout, in case there was something, like another Homunculus, waiting in the wings.

They made their way through the doors that led back to the streets and Marco groaned. The sun was rising, breaking through the scattered rain clouds; it looked to be about five in the morning.

So much for sneaking back in.

"We were down there for four hours?" Armstrong asked quietly as he gauged the time for himself.

"Seems so," Marco groaned in reply, rubbing a hand across his face.

"I FOUND THEM! YOUNG MASTER, COME QUICK!"

The three jerked around at the screech to see Ran Fan at the entrance of the ally, eyes wide, mouth still open from her call. She was staring at them, but her focus was on the bundle in Roy's arms.

Roy knew she was too smart to wonder what it was; she had put two and two together.

There was the sound of at least a dozen footsteps running towards them and Roy bit his already-chewed-up lip again. The crowd of people that had been staying at the Hughes', except for Gracia and Elysia, skidded to a halt behind Ran Fan.

The silence was so thick and the stares so hard and shocked that Roy thought he would go insane. Somebody had to do something before he snapped.

Somebody did, but it was the last person Roy had wanted. Al pushed his way past Ran Fan, eyes locked on Roy and the body bag. The look on Al's face made Roy want to break down and throw himself at the younger Elric's feet to beg for forgiveness. Al looked ready to cry, scream, and blow something up all at the same time. Confusion and disbelief were mixed in, along with an undercurrent of utter, raw agony.

Al stopped a couple of feet away, as if waiting. He wanted an explanation, but Roy couldn't find any words. Despite his musings, he never had figured out what to tell Al. Instead, he quietly bowed his head, breaking eye contact.

Al let out a roar of fury and Roy looked up in time to see the young Elric transmute a pipe into a very deadly-looking sword and charged.

Roy didn't move to avoid the attack, and as Al leaped for his throat, sword flashing, he closed his eyes; he couldn't win a fight against a pissed-off, sorrow-crazed Elric. He was screwed, and he deserved it.

**Mmm, angst for dinner. That was pretty morbid and disturbing if I do say so myself. Um, anyway. About three more chapters, I think. See you then!**


	5. Conspiracy

**Wow, you guys. It's been a while, huh? Blame Christopher Paolini for publishing Brisingr and Barnes and Nobles for letting me pre-order it xD**

**This chapter seems a little rushed to me. Sorry! And there's an OC in this chapter. Yes, he has relevance to the plot. Don't like OC's? Again, sorry. Had to have him.**

But the blow never came. Roy heard the crunch of two bodies colliding, the sword clattered to the ground and there was an "Oof!" from someone hitting the ground. He tentatively cracked open an eye, still wary of being sliced to pieces.

On the ground, Al was squirming madly, pinned under Ling, who had the younger Elric's arms behind his back and was holding on for dear life.

"Alphonse! Calm down!" Ling growled, struggling to hold on as Al aimed a kick at his captor. Alphonse's only response was a stream of profanities that would have stunned Edward into silence.

While everyone had been occupied with the Al versus Ling scuffle, Marco pushed his way over to the other group. "Someone get a car. We have to get to Knox as soon as we can," he ordered, sounding every bit the doctor he was.

Breda was the first to react and quickly left to go locate a car. Hawkeye glanced between Al, Ling, Roy and the bloody bundle that was Ed, and Marco. "What do we need Knox for?" she asked the doctor.

"Autopsy."

That was all that was needed. Hawkeye gave a sharp nod and flicked a hand at the military officers that were left. "Go make a perimeter. We need to keep this quiet."

Fuery, Falman, Darius, and Heinkel went to do so. After a moment, Ran Fan scaled the buildings to the roofs and followed.

Al and Ling were still wrestling on the ground; Al seemed to be Hell-bent on ripping Roy's throat out. He gave Roy a look of fury before returning to his struggle against Ling.

"I suppose Knox can fix us up as well," Armstrong noted, glancing sideways at Roy. "Especially you. Your leg-"

"Enough about my leg!" Roy snapped, fixing Armstrong with a glare. "We have bigger things to worry about. Where the hell is Breda? We need to get this autopsy finished!"

He was biting everyone's heads off, and he knew it, but Roy was beyond caring. Hawkeye could chew him up about it later, when Ed was somewhere safe. It wouldn't be long before the higher-ups found out that Bradley had gone missing, and- what a coincidence!- a State Alchemist is suddenly dead, with three others injured. The Brass was pretty stupid, but they knew about the Homunculi, and so they probably knew that Edward and Roy knew.

Roy found himself wishing Al _had_ slit his throat. At least if he was dead, he wouldn't have to deal with all the politics that came with killing the leader of a country.

Breda finally came with the car, pulling up to the curb in front of the alley. Hawkeye opened the back door for Roy and Armstrong ushered him forward. Marco was already in the back seat and helped maneuver Ed into the car. Roy reluctantly surrendered his load and ducked into the back of the car.

Hawkeye made to close the door, but Roy held out a hand to stop her. "You were right, Hawkeye."

She frowned at him. "Right about what?"

"Me being useless in the rain."

Her grip on the door handle tightened and she looked away. "I wish I hadn't been, sir," she said stiffly before the slamming the door shut and making her way over to Ling and Al. The younger Elric had obviously fallen to his grief; he was curled into a ball on the ground and sobbing while Ling- still pinning the blonde down- looked completely thrown at the abrupt change in attitude.

"You know where Knox lives, Breda?" Marco asked, breaking the silence in the car.

He nodded and shifted the car into gear noiselessly.

The four men stared out the windows in utter silence. Breda still seemed to be trying to get over what had just happened, and Roy wondered faintly if he should even be driving while so preoccupied. But at that moment, he really didn't care if they all crashed and died at that moment.

Five minutes into the ride, Marco let out a small cough, snapping Roy out of his overly-depressing thoughts. The doctor glanced sideways at Roy before turning to stare out of his window at the now-pouring rain. Roy scowled darkly, but took a deep breath to calm himself and almost gagged.

Instead of getting the leather-and-metal smell that came from the interior of a car, he was hit by an overwhelming stench of blood and rot. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the pointed look Marco was giving him across the seat. How the hell had he not noticed before? The other three men must have been on the verge of passing out; the odor was oppressive and in the small car and there was no way for it to leak out.

Roy would have opened a window if it hadn't been raining so hard.

Nobody commented and Roy went back to his sullen silence, contemplating how wrong and twisted the world was for something like this to happen. The rest of the trip to Knox's was silent as the scent of Ed's blood and guts settled over them.

Roy fought back a sigh of relief as Breda pulled up to the doctor's house. Armstrong was out in a flash, stomping up the stairs through the rain to the front door and knocking. It was early- no one in their right mind would be awake at this hour- but Knox was an insomniac, so there was a pretty good chance he would be awake and smoking his life away.

Sure enough, the door opened, revealing a confused and grouchy Knox. He scowled at Armstrong, but the Major began talking, explaining the situation. Knox glanced at the car, then over his shoulder, before nodding tensely and ducking back inside.

Roy was out of the car, Ed in his arms, before anyone could say a word. Halfway up the walk, Roy paused, remembering Breda, still in the driver's seat. He turned around sharply. "Breda!" he barked, ignoring the rain.

"Sir?" The man was tired and probably starting to actually feel the shock of the whole thing. He needed to get somewhere where he could relax.

"Go back to Gracia's. You need some sleep."

Breda gave a half-hearted salute and Marco stepped away from the car as it drove slowly away. Roy didn't bother to watch it leave; he continued into the house, where Armstrong was waiting.

"Knox is cleaning out his examination room," the muscled alchemist said, pointing down the hall. Roy nodded and headed in the indicated direction, Marco hot on his heels, both of them leaving a trail of water behind them.

By the time Roy and Marco came in, the steel table in the middle of the room was cleared off. Knox was shoving a pile of boxes against one of the walls, mumbling angrily under his breath. He snuffed out his cigarette, washed his hands in the sink, and flicked a wet hand at the table. "Put him there."

Roy glanced at the table as Knox pulled out his bag and began unpacking it. Unconsciously, his grip on Edward tightened; the fatherly protection was surfacing again.

"Let's get this over with, Roy," Marco whispered. Roy started, having forgotten that the doctor was even in the room. "The sooner, the better," he added, giving Roy a push towards the table.

It was with great reluctance that the Colonel did so. Roy placed the body bag down on the table and stepped a couple of paces back. He didn't want to get in Knox's way, and, to be honest, Ed smelled pretty bad at this point.

Knox stalked forward, not looking the least bit thrilled about having to do an impromptu autopsy at the break of dawn. The man pulled on a pair of gloves and began to untie the straps holding the bag together, jaw set. Roy bit his lip as the odor began to increase as it escaped the confines of the bag. But Knox didn't seem the least bit disturbed and he continued undoing the knots systematically. Once all the straps were off, Knox lifted the edge of the sheet and peered in.

"Holy crap."

Roy's eye twitched.

Knox let the cloth fall back over the body and turned around. For once in his life, he looked completely out of his league. He stared at Mustang and Marco before shaking his head and rubbing hands together nervously. "Armstrong told me it was ugly, but that's…" Knox cringed. "That's worse than anything I saw in Ishbal."

Roy bit the inside of his cheek, unable to find anything to say to that.

It was Marco who finally spoke up. "We know it's bad, Knox. But we really need you to do the autopsy and fudge the death certificate."

Knox glanced over his shoulder at the lump on the table and sighed. "I thought I was retired."

Roy scowled. "We'll pay you, Knox. Name your price. Just get it done," he growled, sentences short and choppy as he tried to suppress his emotions.

"I don't want to get paid for this," Knox replied darkly. He cast a longing look at the box of cigarettes left on the counter before cracking his knuckles. "Mustang, do me a favor and go call Julius Irkwin. His number's next to the phone."

The Colonel frowned. "Who's that?"

"He runs the military funeral home. He's going to have to come pick him up," Knox jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Ed. "Unless you want the Brass to get a hold of the body, have Julius get over here in an hour."

Marco looked worried. "We don't need anymore people involved in this, Knox. If this leaks out, we're all in for it."

Knox rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of that, but Julius will keep quiet. He never was a fan of Bradley."

The Crystal Alchemist seemed to accept that. He sighed and nodded, giving Mustang a pleading look to understand and go call Irkwin. The Colonel scowled and stalked out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he realized that the two doctors hadn't wanted him in the room while the autopsy happened.

Roy gave the door a dirty look and stalked towards the kitchen, where Knox kept his phone.

Armstrong was gone; Roy was willing to bet that he had gone back to Gracia's to explain what he could. _Good luck with that,_ Roy thought mentally, cringing.

Just as Knox had said, there was a list of numbers next to the phone, and Irkwin's was at the top. "Who the hell is awake at this hour? He's not going to answer," Roy mumbled darkly, roughly dialing the number.

Four rings went by, and Mustang glared at the wall, fingers rapping sharply on the counter.

On the fifth ring, there was a click on the other end and Mustang stiffened in surprise. "H'llo?" asked a bleary voice. A yawn punctuated the end of the question.

"Julius Irkwin?"

"Yessir."

Roy took a deep breath. "This is Colonel Roy Mustang. I need you to come down to Dr. Knox's house to retrieve a body," he said, allowing himself to slip into the stoic military formalities to distance himself from the whole thing. The last thing he wanted to do was to break into tears.

Irkwin cursed quietly and Roy heard papers shuffling. "Can't it wait? It's not even six in the morning yet," Irkwin asked, whining.

Roy was distinctly reminded of Havoc for some reason. "No, it cannot. It is of utmost importance that we get the deceased into a safe place where the military would dare not interfere." Roy winced at his words. He sounded so indifferent to the whole thing it was almost appalling.

There was silence on the other end as Irkwin thought. "… Who died?" he finally asked, sounding like he didn't really want to know. And he didn't- finding out would throw him right into the middle of a military conspiracy.

Roy took a deep breath to keep his voice steady. "Edward Elric."

There was a clatter and the sound of something being dragged across a wooden floor. Irkwin swore colorfully in Drachman and some static burst in Roy's ear. He held the receiver away and began to rub the side of his face, ears ringing painfully.

The static ended and Roy tentatively put the receiver back to his ear. Irkwin was finished cursing, but what he was saying wasn't much better. "…-can go burn in hell!"

"Mr. Irkwin?"

"Ah, sorry about that. I dropped the phone… on my, um, foot." He was lying, Roy could tell he was lying, but didn't bother to say anything about it.

Roy ran a hand through his hair. He needed a drink, right now. "We need you here in an hour. Try to be a secretive as possible and don't tell anyone."

Irkwin mumbled something and papers began shuffling again on the other end. "Right, right. I can be there in half and hour. You want secrecy? I'll leave the hearse at the home, then," he said, plotting out loud. He even sounded a little excited about the whole thing.

"Good. We'll see you then," Roy replied stiffly.

"Wait a minute, Colonel!"

Roy, who had been about to hang up the phone, pulled the receiver back up to his ear. "Yes?"

"Why's this got to be all secret? I mean, yeah, the country will flip out with the news of the Fullmetal Alchemist dying and all, but-"

"You will be filled in when you arrive. I'll be waiting for you, Mr. Irkwin," Mustang said sharply and slammed the phone back into the cradle.

Now where did Knox keep his whiskey?

**Wow. Um, dunno what to really say about this. I did have fun with Irkwin, though. And you gotta love Knox. He's one of my favorite characters, believe it or not xD**


	6. Not Pleased to Meet You

**Hey, again, everyone! Another chapter is here for your angsty enjoyment, though it's not as long as I would have liked it to. But it seemed like a good place to end. And besides, we get to meet Irkwin! Hoorah.**

**This chapter is my Chirstmas/holiday present to all those who read this. Happy (belated) holidays!**

Roy was not pleased to discover that Knox was fresh out of anything with a suitable level of alcohol. With a growl, he snapped the door to the empty liquor cabinet closed and stalked down the hallway towards the autopsy room. As he reached it, the Colonel could hear the two doctors muttering directions to each other and the occasional metal-on-metal clang.

Unsure of exactly what to do with himself while he waited for Irkwin to show up, Roy opted for leaning against the wall.

"Hey, Marco, pass me some needles, would you? I need to pin back this piece of skin to get a look at the lung." Knox's voice floated through the door and Roy was suddenly very glad that he hadn't gotten any alcohol in his stomach.

"Sure, here," was Marco's muffled response.

Things were quiet again and Roy amused himself by mentally devising an array that would let him burn his signature onto multiple papers instead of signing each and every one that came his way.

It was quiet for a while until a wet tearing noise erupted from the other side of the door. Knox cursed loudly and Roy jumped, almost tripping over his feet.

"Knox!" roared Marco. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! The skin tore. Look, you can see for yourself!"

"I thought you were a professional at this!"

"I'm retired, alright? I haven't done this in a while. Besides, nobody's going to be able to tell; he's so ripped up already."

Roy bristled and slammed the door with a fist. "That's not the point, Knox! Have some respect!"

Something fell to the floor and Knox let out another curse. "Dammit, Roy, don't surprise us like that! How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Roy growled, glaring daggers at the door.

Knox grunted. "I take it you called Irkwin?" he asked, quickly changing the subject before Roy could harass him anymore about the body abuse.

Roy cracked a knuckle. "I did. He said he'd be here in half an hour," the black-haired man replied stiffly, trying to clam himself down. _Setting the house on fire will not accomplish anything, _he told himself firmly.

"Oh, good. We're almost done in here." It was Marco this time. Roy had forgotten that the elderly doctor was even in the room.

Roy opted for a grunt and went back to sulking against the wall.

He was almost done with perfecting the array when the doorbell broke through his thoughts. The alchemist pushed himself off the wall and hastened down the hallway towards the front door. Without even bothering to check who it was, Roy yanked open the door.

The rain had lightened to a drizzle, but the young man standing on the doorstep was wrapped in a long black rain coat. He had a dark bowler hat pulled low over his eyes and a thick white scarf around his neck. "You're Mustang?" he asked, shoving the edge of the hat back in order to get a better look at the person in front of him.

"Yes. Irkwin?"

"Yessir. I'm here on time, I believe."

"You are. Come in," Mustang said, stepping out of the way. Julius hurried in, removing his hat and running a hand through his thick black hair. A clump of it fell over one eye, concealing it, and Roy tensed, reminded vividly of Wrath.

Irkwin's boots clomped loudly on the floor as he circled the room, almost like he was taking it in for the first time. After a minute, he stopped his pacing and turned to face Roy, who hadn't moved after closing the front door. "So. Am I going to be told why I'm here at the crack of dawn?" he asked with a slight Drachman accent that hadn't been clear over the phone.

Roy met the man's dark brown eyes. "You are here to retrieve a body," he replied tightly, wishing Knox would hurry up.

"I'm aware of that. So I'm not going to be told of the reason for death?" Irkwin shot back, giving Mustang a glare.

Roy sighed and glanced down the hallway. "It is not of any importance that you know. All you are required to do is prepare the body for the funeral." Roy wanted to stab himself. It was revolting to be referring to Edward as a body and the fact that the funeral was even coming into the discussion was enough to make Roy sick to his stomach.

Irkwin made a disgusted noise and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, loosening the scarf around his neck.

The door opened down the hall and Knox came out, wiping his hands on a towel. "Mustang, was that Julius?" he asked, not close enough to the kitchen to see the new occupant.

"Yes it was." Julius answered for Roy, getting to his feet and, to Roy's surprise, giving the cranky smoker a grin. "If this becomes routine, I'm changing my phone number and not telling you," he joked, shoving the hat back on his head.

Knox sighed and lit a cigarette. "Stop being so happy, kid. It's nauseating."

Julius leaned against the table, and Roy was struck by the abrupt change in attitude. Obviously, he and Knox were good friends. "Aw, c'mon. What's wrong with being happy?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. But you're a funeral director and it's really just weird coming from you," Knox replied, giving Julius a half-hearted glare as he took a long drag of the cigarette. "You're supposed to be all somber and sympathetic to the grieving families."

"No, that's my dad's job. I just hang out with the dead guys in the basement."

Roy grimaced. He could see why Knox thought the happiness was weird coming from Julius.

Knox shook his head and muttered something under his breath. "Whatever. You're going to have one hell of a time fixing this one up. Careful with him, alright? Lots of tearing."

Julius bit a nail thoughtfully and glanced at Roy, a triumphant look in his eyes. "So, how'd Fullmetal die?"

Roy tensed, eyes flicking over to Knox. The doctor knew of the fight and Ed's death, but he was trying to keep the whole thing under wraps as much as Roy and Marco were.

Knox leaned over the table and snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Some chimeras got a hold of him and shredded him. Ended up dying from blood loss," Knox said calmly, ignoring Roy who had visibly sagged in relief against the wall at the lie. "It was down in the sewers, so there might be some nasty stuff lodged in a cavity I didn't get to. You've been warned."

Julius's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he took the small pile of papers that Knox handed him without comment.

"Where'd you park your car?"

Julius tucked the papers inside his jacket. "I'm behind the house in that overgrown lot," he said, pointing towards the back of the house.

"Smart kid," Knox grunted, taking his glasses off to wipe them on his shirt. "Marco's going to go with you. I gotta take a look at his leg," he explained, jerking a thumb at Mustang.

"What? For the last time, my leg is fine; I'll go instead of-"

Roy cut himself off at the glare Knox gave him. Obviously, Marco and Knox had planned something out while they were in the room.

Julius was glancing between the two of them, but Knox nudged him down the hall before he could ask any questions. "Second door on the right. Marco's in there with the body all ready to go."

The younger man nodded and moved down the hallway and into the room. As soon as Julius was out of sight, Knox grabbed Roy's elbow and steered him into the living room, where he deposited the alchemist on the couch. "Take off your boot and roll up your pant leg. I want to clean up that gash before we have to amputate," he ordered, rummaging in one of the cabinets for supplies.

Roy sighed and did as he was told, rolling up his right pant leg to expose the wound. The gash had turned a nasty pale green color and Roy grimly wondered if it was a little too late to save the leg. In the background, he could hear doors opening and closing as Marco and Irkwin smuggled Ed out of the house.

Knox returned and began to clean and stitch the wound, muttering about how stupid Mustang was for not cleaning the gash earlier. The doctor didn't pay the least bit of attention to Roy's occasional suppressed yelps of pain and futile attempts to yank his leg away from Knox's grasp.

Finally, the doctor released Roy's leg and stood up. "Really, Roy, someone would think you've never had an injury before."

Roy scowled, pulling his boot back on. "Well, I usually get a nice dose of morphine before I get stabbed with a needle," he retorted, fixing Knox with a glare. "I'm guessing you don't have any to share, do you?"

"I can give you a cigarette."

Roy got to his feet carefully. He didn't want to pull the stitches out. "No thanks."

Knox shrugged and moved into the kitchen; Roy followed him, limping a little as he tried to get used to the stitches. "Probably the best for you, anyway. You're going to want a clear head."

Roy blinked in confusion. "What for?" he asked warily. There was something going on that he didn't know about…

"While Marco and I were in there, he called the Hughes' place. Someone should be here in a minute to pick you up and take you there."

Mustang had his mouth open to ask for more clarification of exactly what the hell was going on when the doorbell rang, cutting him off. He waited as Knox went to answer it; he returned quickly with Breda in tow.

Roy was unable to hide his confusion and surprise. "Breda? What are you doing here?" It was obvious the man hadn't gotten the sleep that Roy had told him to get and was at the end of his line in terms of energy.

His subordinate crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm taking you to Gracia's."

"What for?"

Breda tilted his head and gave Roy a look that showed just how much he wanted to kick his superior officer in the face for being so dense. "You've got some explaining to do."

* * *

**Oh, boy, Roy's in trouble now. I don't think this explaining is going to go over so well. Too bad Knox didn't have any alcohol, eh?**

**Sorry about the slow pace in the past couple of chapters. The next chapter will be similar to this (lots of dialouge) but the one after that will make up for it. Hopefully. -coughs- Right now, it's looking like there's going to be 2 more chapters and an epilogue, so we're in the home stretch!**


	7. Confrontation

**Hey, guys! Here's another chapter for your angsty enjoyment. This chapter really took a life of its own and it looks like Tenebrae's going to be longer and have more action than I originally planned. But that's okay ;D**

**Things do get a little awkward since Roy and Al are coming face-to-face again. Dun dun dun.**

* * *

The ride back to Gracia's was utterly silent. Breda never took his eyes off the road and Mustang made no move to initiate a conversation. It was clear from Breda's death-grip on the steering wheel that he was in no mood to talk with his superior officer. So the Colonel began to clean himself off. Even with alchemy, the blood in his pants was a pain to remove, and the large red stain on the floor of the car was definitely not coming out any time soon. There were still some discolored splotches on his clothes, but it was definitely better than what he had looked like earlier.

Roy was relieved when Breda finally stopped; he was out of the car before the engine had been shut off. As soon as he closed the car door behind him, the feeling of relief dissipated when he realized what exactly was waiting for him in the house. The Colonel couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to walk right into a den of very hungry and very angry lions; he wanted nothing more to run like hell and hide under a rock.

The trip to the front door took a lot less time than it should have.

Breda opened the door, and when Roy made no move to go in, gracelessly shoved the Flame into the house.

It was quiet inside. Most people would have said it was peaceful, but Roy could tell it was anything but. The blinds were drawn in all of the windows and the only light came from a room at the other end of the house. Even the kitchen was empty, despite the fact that more than 10 people were living under the same roof.

"Um, where is everyone, Breda?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. The silence was really starting to get to him.

"We're in the study."

Roy's head snapped around so fast he could have sworn he heard it crack. Darius had come into the room in time to answer the Colonel's question and was leaning against the wall with a scowl on his face. "We've been waiting for you, Mustang."

Well, that was a little creepy. "Oh," was Mustang's intelligent response.

Darius snorted and turned, motioning with a flick of his hand for Mustang to follow him. Roy followed, praying to any and all gods out there that all the sharp objects were well out of Alphonse's reach; he didn't fancy having to defend himself again.

The study was packed. Everyone, excluding Marco and Elysia (and Edward, obviously) was there, and fifteen pairs of eyes turned to stare at him as soon as he walked into the room. Breda shut the door behind him with an ominous click.

Roy shifted nervously under the scrutiny. He made a point of looking everywhere except at Al, who was smashed between Winry (who looked ready to kill) and Mei (who looked ready to cry) on the tiny loveseat directly across from Roy. Instead, he found himself staring in surprise at Scar, who was leaning against the wall, all alone.

_Gracia let him in the house? _That thought threw Roy and he gawked at the murderer until the Ishbalan cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. The alliance with Scar had always been uneasy; it was more a necessity than any stab at peace between him and the alchemists. Now being in the same room was just downright awkward.

"Roy?" Gracia prompted quietly from her chair. Almost instantly, the others in the room turned their full attention to Roy; even Scar shifted so that he was facing the Colonel directly.

Roy bit the inside of his cheek and ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. His leg was starting to throb, but he didn't dare ask for a chair to sit on; this was his own punishment for screwing up and letting all this mess happen.

"Hold on."

Roy glanced up from his thoughts. It was Al who had spoken and the young boy gave Mustang a cautious glare- not accusing, but still hurt and uncertain. The bloodlust was gone from his eyes, so Roy hoped it was safe to assume that the younger Elric wouldn't make a lunge for his throat again.

"Before you start…" Al stopped, uncertain, but Mei gave him an encouraging nudge in the ribs. "Whose idea was it to go after the Homunculi?"

In the silence that followed, Roy glanced at Armstrong. The other alchemist shook his head; he hadn't told the others anything besides the bare minimum. So it was all up to Roy to explain.

Hooray.

Roy glanced back at Al, who hadn't stopped staring at him since he came in the room. "It was Ed's idea to attack tonight," he said softly, staring at the lamp just behind Al's head. "We all went along with him." Despite his better judgment, he let his gaze flick to Al again. The young blond was staring at his feet, but looked up to meet the Colonel's eyes; he nodded, giving Roy the sign to start the story.

And so he did. Never had Roy found it so hard to talk. Getting down to sewers was easy enough, but as soon as he got to the part where Ed went after Pride, it got a whole hell of a lot harder. Through the whole story, Roy never made eye contact, and he forced himself not to smooth over some of the descriptions. He did, however, avoid explaining exactly how mangled Ed's body had been; that was something that nobody really needed to know. When Julius came into the story, there were several gasps and hisses of disproval.

"You just let some random guy walk off with the Boss?" Havoc asked, giving Roy an incredulous look. "What the hell, Chief? I thought you wanted to keep this quiet!"

"I do, Havoc. Irkwin doesn't work with the government, so the brass won't be able to get the body to do their own autopsy. And it wasn't just some random guy! Marco's with him!" Roy could feel his control on his temper slipping at the accusations. He'd already had this argument with Knox, except then, he had been against involving Irkwin. Either way, he didn't feel like having the same quarrel again.

Havoc snorted. "Yeah, but he's old. What good's he gonna be if someone shows up and tries to take the body forcefully?"

Armstrong spoke up, mustache bristling as he glared at Havoc. "You must remember that Marco knows how to fight. He destroyed two Homunculi and he was in the military; he's not helpless in combat."

That didn't seem to exactly reassure Havoc, but he didn't say anything more.

The story was done, and Roy found himself shifted nervously under the gazes. "That's the whole story… Stop starting at me!" he finally snapped, wishing for once that people would just stop _looking _at him.

Scar snorted and quietly left the room. After a moment, Darius and Heinkel followed; the latter gave Al's head a rough pat before exiting.

Eventually, everyone else, excluding Al and Winry, left the room. Gracia claimed she had to start dinner; Hawkeye volunteered to help. She left without a glance at Roy. Havoc and Breda looked too disgusted with the whole situation to stick around any longer. Nobody else offered an explanation for leaving.

Roy had thought things were awkward before… But being alone with Alphonse and Winry was by far the more uncomfortable position he'd been in a long time. They were still looking at him (really, could they just stop all that staring?), and Al was chewing on his lip.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" Roy asked, finally giving into his leg's demands and sinking into Gracia's vacated chair with a stifled groan.

"Did Ed break his automail?" Winry blurted out suddenly. Roy gave her an incredulous look and Al turned a snort into a poorly-disguised cough. She turned a light shade of pink at Al's obvious amusement. It was strained; hardly anywhere near a fit of laughter, but it was better than the horrified, sad silence that had occupied the room before.

But…Oh, hell. The image of Ed's body floated into Roy's mind and the Colonel bit his lip to keep himself from grimacing. Yes, Ed had most definitely broken his automail, but there was no way he was going to tell Winry that. She'd want to replace it herself, which meant seeing the corpse, and Roy didn't care how good Julius was at his job- it would be impossible to hide just how ravaged the body was.

No, that wasn't going to happen. Roy made a mental note to tell Irkwin to wrap the automail and make sure Ed was wearing gloves and something with sleeves.

"You did quite a good job with the automail, Miss Rockbell. There were just a couple of scratches," he lied smoothly, kicking himself mentally. It was impossible to ensure that Winry or Al would never find out about the real state of Ed's automail, and if they did… Well, Roy would be six feet under in a matter of minutes.

Winry looked pleased and quickly got to her feet. "I'm going to help with dinner," she said quietly and left the room.

Roy's leg had stopped throbbing and he messaged it for a moment to keep the muscles loose. He noticed Al chewing on his lip again and the Colonel sighed loudly. "What, Al?"

The teen started and rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Um, I was wondering…Is Ed going to be able to come home?" Al actually terrified when he finished, and Roy couldn't help but feel a stab of pity for the kid.

"Of course, Al. You thought the military was going to have him buried in Central?"

Al nodded, looking incredibly relieved. "Before, you were talking about the military seizing the bo-" Al stumbled over the word, and ended up skipping it altogether; referring to his brother as a body was obviously out of the question at the moment. "-And I thought they were going to take it for burial."

Roy shook his head. "No, they would take it for autopsy. But if they found out the true cause of death, then things could get dirty. Most of the Brass knows of the Homunculi and would probably connect Bradley's disappearance with Ed's death." Roy paused and flexed his leg before continuing. "I'm going to warn you now, Al, we're going to have to move quickly to get Ed out of Central before the military does figure out a way to get a hold of him. They're not going to let something like this go without a fight, I'm sure."

The uncertainty on Al's face had hardened to resolve as Roy spoke, and when Mustang finished, he nodded firmly. "I understand, Colonel."

A knock on the door interrupted them. Roy glanced up to see Hawkeye standing in the doorway. "Sir, the phone's for you."

Roy frowned and got to his feet. His leg jerked under him, but he managed to limp to the hallway without falling and making a fool of himself. Right now, he had to save as much dignity as he could.

"Who is it, Hawkeye?" he asked when he finally reached the table with the phone. Al had followed him out, looking worried and a little scared.

The Lieutenant crossed her arms across her chest. "It's Irkwin. He said it was important."

Hell. If Irkwin was calling him about something important, it couldn't be anything good. Unless it was a discount on the coffin or something, Roy really didn't think he wanted to hear what the embalmer had to say.

"Irkwin?" he asked, picking the phone.

"Yes, Mustang. Um, we have a problem." Irkwin sounded nervous, and the sickening happiness was gone from his voice.

"I'm listening." Roy's grip tightened on the phone and Al shifted nervously.

"There's a certain General Tristdale here to, ah, 'make arrangements' for the burial of the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Roy cursed loud enough to startle Hawkeye. "Tristdale! You're sure?"

"Positive. Left me his card."

"Dammit! He's Hakuro's second man!"

There was silence on the other end. "You know that I'm clueless about the military hierarchy, right?" Irwin asked, obviously not wrapping his mind around how important Tristdale was.

Roy ground his teeth in frustration. "Hakuro's the one who's going to be taking the Fuhrer's spot."

"Oh. That's not good."

Could this really get any worse? Roy sighed loudly and ran a hand down his face. "Did he come alone?"

Irkwin paused and Roy heard some papers shifting around. "Well, he came to talk to me alone, but he brought, oh, I dunno, about twenty snipers with him. They're hiding out in the trees and bushes, even though the General left about ten minutes ago."

"Wait, if they're hiding, how do you know they're there?"

Irkwin snorted. "I don't think the plants around here are growing pieces of metal instead of flowers. They must be rookies or something if they're that bad at hiding."

_They better be. Makes this a little easier. _"So you're trapped?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I'm in the basement right now. Couldn't let them see me call you."

Roy shifted the weight off of his injured leg. "Is there any way for us to get in without them noticing?" The wheels in his head were already turning, trying to formulate a plan to get Ed out.

Irkwin's answer shot down most of Roy's hopes. "No. They've got the whole place surrounded."

"Fine. Then we'll do it the old-fashioned way," Roy growled, clenching his fist. Out of the corner of his eye, the Colonel could see most of his subordinates and Ling peering around the corner at him. "Are you, you know, done with the, um..." Roy cringed as he struggled to figure out the wording without giving away what was going on to those listening.

It seemed Irkwin knew what he was trying to ask. "Not really, but I can hurry and have him all embalmed and ready to go by sunset."

"Good."

"It'll cost you, though. Express checkout doesn't come free, you know."

Roy couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Don't worry, Irkwin. State Alchemists have a nice big paycheck. Anyway, stall them as long as you can. We'll be there after sunset."

"You have a plan?" Julius sounded surprised.

"Nope. But we're busting Edward out of there, no matter what."

* * *

**Oh, snap! Roy's got a problem now! And I know that in the manga, Hakuro isn't the one that would take the Fuhrer-ship (is that a word?), but for plot reasons, he is here. **

**And that express checkout joke was horrible, yet funny. I apologize for my morbid sense of humor.**

**Oh! I have a poll up on my profile that I'd like you to vote on. Gives you a little hint to what I'll be doing after I finish this and Reconstruction. **


	8. Not Over

**Finally! I kid you not, this chapter is longer than anything I've written at once, but I couldn't find a good breaking point. So the last chapter is now super long. Not that there's anything wrong with that... So here's the end- enjoy!**

The car rolled to a stop and Roy hastily climbed out with Hawkeye, Darius, and Breda following suit. It was almost dusk, and the streets were fairly empty. Without a word, Roy slipped into the bushes as quietly as he could. The other three followed.

Once concealed in the shrubbery, Roy pulled on his gloves. Next to him, Breda checked his watch and glanced over his shoulder. "They should be here by now, Chief," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Hawkeye didn't seem to be fazed. "They have to be stealthier than we do. I'm sure they just had to take a detour to avoid detection," she replied. Even though her voice was calm, the lieutenant pulled out her gun and began to check it over; Roy had worked with her long enough to know that she was nervous.

The Colonel sighed and crossed his arms. "We'll wait five minutes." Any longer, and they would be too short on time.

It turned out that they didn't have to wait that long. Ling and Ran Fan appeared almost moments later, dropping from the trees to the ground. Both were dressed completely in black and Ran Fan was masked.

"You ready?" Roy asked, glancing warily at the swords strapped to Ling's waist.

Both of the Xinginese nodded. "Lead the way, Colonel," replied Ling. Ran Fan remained silent.

And so they went. It normally would have been a quick walk, but the group was large and they had to remain out of sight. None of the snipers ranged around the funeral home could know they were coming.

Ran Fan had moved up to the front, next to Roy. She suddenly stiffened and grabbed the Colonel's shoulder. "There's one up ahead. About ten feet away, in that tree," she breathed, mouth practically in Roy's ear.

Mustang glanced towards the tree Ran Fan was pointing at missed the glare Hawkeye sent at the young Xinginese girl.

Roy really whished he had some light, but that would be a dead giveaway to their location. So he squinted and waited. Sure enough, the man in the trees shifted his position and Roy caught a glimmer of metal in the leaves.

Ling had crept up to Ran Fan and was examining the tree with interest. Then he smirked, nodded to Ran Fan, and vanished.

A minute later, there was a soft _thump _from above and Ling shimmied down the tree, a grin plastered all over his face. He gave Roy a thumbs-up and proceeded to head towards their destination.

The twenty-minute journey resulted in a total of five unconscious snipers and a squirrel that Ran Fan had accidentally skewered. But besides the squirrel, there was no bloodshed or any injuries.

Soon the group reached the edge of the property. The funeral home was a small, one-story brick structure with a wrap-around porch. In the back, Roy could pick out a small fleet of hearses. All of the windows were black; the blinds were drawn and only a weak light filtered from the glass of the front door.

Ran Fan was busy examining the area; behind her, Ling was murmuring to Darius. The chimera nodded and slipped back into some of the thicker brush. Ran Fan made some kind of hand signal to Ling, who paced quietly over to where Hawkeye, Breda, and Roy were crouched.

"We're going," he whispered. "Wait for the signal."

Roy nodded and Ling turned and vanished, leaving the three soldiers alone. The minutes ticked by and Roy bit his tongue to calm himself down. It was all part of the plan. Sure, said plan was hastily thrown together, but still. Ling, Ran Fan, and Darius would go ahead and take out as many of them snipers as they could find. As soon as that was done, they'd all sneak into the funeral home, get Ed, and _go. _

Simple. Very simple. But with any luck, the military brass wouldn't expect such an uncomplicated scheme.

But the waiting was nerve-wracking. Roy's leg was starting to ache, but he didn't risk moving. It was silent, and Roy couldn't tell where the three were as they cleaned out the trees and searched the area for any other threats.

Waiting was all they could do. And Roy hated it.

The signal came at last- a small flash of light from a tree directly across from the bush they were hiding behind. Everything was clear, and they were free to go.

Roy took a deep breath before bolting out of the bushes. Even though Ling and the others had found everyone, they weren't completely safe. Someone could be watching them, being careful to avoid detection… The thought made Roy's neck burn and he tried to block out the thought. He had to stay focused.

He reached the door, Breda and Hawkeye on his heels. They faced away from him, guns cocked and ready to shoot. Roy glanced over his shoulder before banging on the door. "Irkwin! It's Mustang, open the door!"

The sound of feet clattering against wood reached him and the Colonel stepped back. A lock clicked and Irkwin opened the door a sliver. By that time, Ling, Ran Fan, and Darius had caught up with them, and the six slipped into the foyer. Julius made to close the door, but a shout stopped him.

"Wait! I'm coming!"

Roy peered out over Irkwin's head in time to see Scar bolting across the open space and up to the porch.

"Let him in." Irkwin looked surprised at the command, but stood to the side and allowed the Ishballan to enter the room. Once Scar was inside, Irkwin closed and locked the door.

Roy couldn't help but stare at Scar. While working with him against the Homunculi, it had been easy to forget that they had once been at each other's throats. Scar was the enemy of his enemy, so therefore, they were allies. But all that was over…

"Heinkel told me where you were going," Scar said, as if to explain his reason for being there. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Ling coughed loudly and gave Roy a pointed glare.

Mustang scowled back at the teen before turning to Julius. "Alright, we're here. Where's Ed?"

The young embalmer motioned for the group to follow him and he began to lead the way down the hall. Even in the dark, Roy could tell the funeral home was fancy- the carpet under his feet was thick, and from what he could see of the other rooms, the floors were a gleaming hardwood. Paintings were hung on the walls and thick draperies covered the windows. Several tables along the hallways held ornate vases; most were still filled with flowers.

They reached the end of the hallway and Julius unlocked yet another door. Behind the door was a stairwell, which Roy assumed led to the basement. Julius headed down, flicking on the light as he went.

The basement was a spacious room, though it was my no means warm and comforting. The floor and walls were concrete and the bright electric lighting was harsh on the eyes. Several metal tables were situated in the middle of the room; along the walls were shelves full of books, medical tools, and several bottles of liquids. The smell of formaldehyde was almost overpowering Mustang fought back a snort as Darius covered his nose to block out the odor.

"Welcome to my world!" Julius chirped, sauntering around the tables. Breda and Ran Fan had not moved from the bottom of the staircase and Scar looked sick to his stomach. Yes, Julius Irkwin was a quite a disturbing character indeed.

Roy hadn't paid much attention to the tables, but when Julius stopped at one near the far wall, his brain actually registered what was on it. A dark mahogany coffin was situated on the table and Irkwin patted it in an almost affectionate way.

"Right, it's sealed and ready to go," Julius said. "Gotta say, this is probably the fastest I've ever done an embalming… Seriously, not even twenty-four hours to get it done." The embalmer cocked an eyebrow. "I'm charging you an arm and a leg for this, Mustang."

Roy was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who caught the irony of Irkwin's words. Ling snorted loudly and Hawkeye rolled her eyes.

Slowly, Roy made his way forward. The coffin wasn't that big, but it looked heavy as hell. "Sure. Just send me the bill later, alright?"

Irkwin sighed and waved a hand at the coffin. "Not sure where you're planning to take him, but you're going to need some serious manpower. This was the only coffin I had on hand, and it's solid." To prove his point, he rapped a knuckle on the side of the casket.

Roy cringed. He had hoped that the coffin wouldn't be heavy, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen. The Colonel considered transmuting the wood into something lighter, or maybe just shearing a layer of wood off. However, plants and timber weren't in his area of expertise, and the last thing he needed was for the coffin to fall apart and Ed to roll out or something.

And they didn't have the time, anyway.

"Okay, so how do we get out of here?" Ling asked, striding to the two men and giving the coffin a critical glare. "I'm not carrying this up the stairs."

Julius pointed at a door Mustang hadn't noticed before. "That's an elevator. It'll only be able to lift the coffin, but it saves you from the stairs."

The Colonel nodded. "Alright, let's go."

In the end, he, Ling, Darius, and Scar were the ones to haul the coffin across the room and into the elevator. Roy couldn't help but smirk. _What a weird bunch of pallbearers we are, _he thought. And yet, it was strangely fitting- An alchemist trying to take control of his country, one of the heirs to the Imperial throne, a chimera, and a serial killer.

At the top of the stairs, the four retrieved the coffin from the elevator and made their way towards the door. Breda and Hawkeye left to reclaim the car and drive back to Gracia's. Ran Fan would stay and act as scout as the four men smuggled Ed to the train station.

"Wait a second." Roy, who was on the front left corner of the coffin glanced over to his right at Ling. The teen mumbled something to Ran Fan in Xinginese. She frowned and flexed her automail fist before responding quietly.

Then she turned around and punched Julius square in the face.

"What the hell?!" exclaimed Darius, who was directly behind Roy. Scar was gawking at the sight of the crumpled embalmer. Irkwin twitched once before moaning and going still.

"Let's just start moving. I'll explain as we go," snapped Ling, and the others hasted to oblige. Once into the allies of Central, Ling began his explanation.

"Alright. So we want to keep Irkwin from getting any heat from the military, right? If he was attacked, then he would not have been able to get a good look at his attackers, who just so happen to be stealing the body of a dead alchemist. I seriously doubt Irkwin will rat us out, but now the military won't really be able to get a strong enough case against us. No evidence to go by."

Roy didn't want to admit it, but the plan made sense. "He's not dead, is he?"

"Who?" Ling asked, shifting the coffin on his shoulder. They had been on the move for a good twenty minutes and the casket sure was heavy for a piece of wood with a dead body inside it.

"Irkwin. Who else?"

"Oh, no he's fi-" Ling hissed as he tripped over a loose stone. Scar and Darius struggled to keep the coffin level, but there was a heavy _clunk _of something hitting the side of the casket. Roy grimaced and Ling looked horrified.

The group paused, staring at the coffin. Roy dimly wondering what they were waiting for. It wasn't like Edward was going to start banging on the lid and yelling at them and demand that they be careful with his body. Then again, that was a very Ed-like thing to do and, Roy had to admit, he wouldn't be all that surprised if it turned out the kid wasn't dead after all.

Darius finally broke the silence. "Let's keep going, shall we?"

"Good idea," Scar replied. Roy couldn't see his face, but he sounded a little nauseous.

Ling stumbled back to his feet and sheepishly took his position at the coffin.

A couple of minutes later, Roy could pick out the lights of the Central train station. Ran Fan was waiting near the back of the complex in a cluster of trees. As soon as they were out of sight, the four men deposited the coffin on the ground.

"About time!" Darius growled, rubbing his shoulder. Roy grimaced as he tried to move his arm. He couldn't feel anything from the collarbone down and it looked like it was the same for the other three.

"Heinkel and Fuery found a container, just as you asked," Ran Fan told Roy, pointing over her shoulder towards the station. "They said they'll bring it here."

Roy nodded to show that he had heard and then sat on the ground, groaning. Feeling was starting to return to his arm, and his leg decided that now would be a good time to start throbbing, too. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on him, and the Colonel wanted nothing more than to curl right there in the bushes and go to sleep. But of course, he had to deny himself that privilege for a little longer- He had a dead body to smuggle out of Central.

A rustle in the shrubbery startled him and the Flame Alchemist turned towards the noise. Fuery emerged, hauling a crate, with Heinkel holding up the other end. They set the box down and Fuery scurried over to Roy, eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Sir! We found a crate that was big enough, but, um…." The smaller man trailed off and shifted nervously.

Roy scowled when Fuery broke eye contact. "But _what_, Fuery?" he asked, his voice taking a "I-really-don't-want-to-deal-with-this" edge that usually scared his subordinates into obeying.

And, of course, it worked on Fuery.

"It's a milk crate, Sir!"

Five heads swiveled to look at said crate. Sure enough, the word "MILK" was printed on the side in bright red letters.

It took every ounce of Roy's self control to not slap his face. _The irony._

The box was opened and the coffin was gently maneuvered into the empty crate. With Heinkel helping, there was much less dropping and bumping, which Roy counted as a good thing. The lid was hammered back on and the men once again hefted the crate onto their shoulders.

Roy shook his head as the group snuck towards the cargo area of the train station. He was willing to bet a week's paycheck that somewhere in the afterlife, Ed was screaming profanities and probably destroying something in his rage over the indignity of having to be in the same box that at one point carried the dreaded liquid.

Ahead of them, a large pile of boxes, crates, and other cargo was piled together. Two men were carrying each item, one by one, into the cargo cars of the train. The group waited, hidden in the shadows until the two men disappeared in the railroad car with a wooden box. Then, with as much haste as they could manage, they slipped onto the platform with the milk crate and deposited it with the rest of the cargo.

Roy glanced once at the train before turning and slipping back into the concealing shadows.

Neither one of the workers seemed to notice the extra baggage, and soon enough, they hauled milk crate into the train.

"Damn, those guys are strong," mumbled Darius and Scar grunted in agreement.

Roy ignored them and watched until one of the men closed the door on the cargo car and locked it. A whistle sounded from further ahead and the hiss of steam signaled the approaching departure of the train.

The Colonel turned to Heinkel. "Al and Winry are on the train?" he asked.

The chimera nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. "They are. And they know of the plan. Alphonse said he'd call make a call at one of the stops. That way someone can be there to pick them up and help with the…luggage."

Good. Roy ran a hand through his hair and nodded with satisfaction. "We're done, then."

Ling frowned and glanced at the train. "This is all over?" he asked quietly.

Roy let out a short laugh. "Far from over. Everything's going to go to hell when Hakuro finds out that Edward's gone, but if Al does what he needs to, then Ed's safe. Hakuro won't dare have the Fullmetal Alchemist's body dug up if he wants to keep the public support. And besides, there's no real proof that Ed's even in that coffin."

Puzzled silence met that statement. Roy glanced at the group before sighing and continuing to explain. "Ever heard of memorial funerals? Burying empty coffins and the like?"

"Won't the people in Resembool know that it's not empty, though?" Darius asked. "One of them could spill to the military."

Roy shook his head. "I've been to Resembool before. It must be a small-town thing, but everyone in that place is close. I have no doubt that they'll keep quiet."

Ling smirked and exhaled loudly. "So it's all politics now?"

"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure I can handle that," Roy replied. Behind him, the train whistled one last time before groaning forward and slipping into the night.

**I cried when I finished with this. Seriously. **

**And there's more news... Chances are, there's going to be a sequel to this. As I was writing this chapter, I realized I left out a very important part, and it's driving me crazy. Actually, I'm surprised nobody pointed it out before. But that story won't be coming for a long time! I plan to write the whole thing before posting it. It will probably be the same length, maybe shorter. **

**But enough about that. Thanks so much for reading this! Tenebrae's the first multi-chapter fic I've finished, so this is a big milestone. See ya'll around!**


	9. Epilogue

**Finally! I had such a hard time writing this chapter. I don't know what my problem was. But here's the epilogue. **

For once in his life, Roy Mustang was quite pleased with how things were going. It had been about two weeks since Ed's death and "rescue" and Hakuro and all his followers were running around like a bunch of headless chickens.

It was amusing and Roy had to hide his smirk every time one of the new Fuhrer's men would come to question him about the events of _That Night_. The idiots obviously didn't have a clue as of what to do.

"Are you sure that Mr. Irkwin's testimony is correct, Mustang?"

Roy leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping on the hard wood top of his desk. "Positive. He wasn't unnaturally nervous during the questioning and the medical reports say that he did take a heavy blow to the head."

General Tristdale scowled and flicked through the transcript of Irkwin's questioning. "The report says the strike was to his face. Shouldn't he have seen his attacker?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed. He had been present for the interrogation, and Irkwin had claimed his assailants had worn masks. Tristdale was aware of that fact, too. _They're still sure I'm somehow involved_, he mused. _They must be hoping for me to slip and reveal something. _Well, too bad for them- that wasn't going to happen.

"I believe Irkwin stated that they had been wearing masks."

Tristdale's glower deepened and he snapped the folder shut. "He did," replied the general, voice tight with anger. The man glared at Mustang for a moment longer before rising from his chair. "Good day, Brigadier-General," he growled, ignoring Roy's hasty salute as he stormed from the office.

Roy waited ten seconds after his office door closed before sinking back into his chair and smirking. It was almost too easy. The brass was nothing more than a bunch of trigger-happy, filthy rich idiots; none of them knew how to run a decent investigation. They didn't even know how many people were involved, either: The son of the Xingese emperor, a serial killer, a couple of runaway chimeras, and several alchemists and civilians.

And it didn't help that most of the people that had taken part in Edward's kidnapping weren't even in the city any more. Mei, Ling, and his bodyguards had snuck off back to Xing, Scar was returning to Ishbal, the chimeras had gone north, Al and Winry had gone back east, and Marco had picked up a new disguise and hitch-hiked to some town in the west.

Roy couldn't help but feel sneaky. And he had the feeling that Ed would thoroughly enjoy the run-around the brass was getting.

After lunch, Roy found himself elbow-deep in paperwork and ready to set something on fire. Was it really necessary for a Brigadier-General to authorize the shipment of extra canned beans to the northern border? "Bunch of bastards," he muttered, signing his name with more force than was really needed.

There was a knock on the door and Roy stopped working, thankful for the interruption. "Come in," he called, shoving the papers to the side of his desk. With his luck, it would be Breda with another load of documents that needed his approval.

Instead, it was Hawkeye who opened the door. "Sir, Alphonse is on the phone."

Alphonse! Well, he wasn't expecting that. "Really?"

Hawkeye nodded, a small smile on her face. "Fuery's already checked the line; you're good to go."

Roy nodded his thanks and grabbed the receiver from the phone on his desk; Hawkeye quickly withdrew and closed the door behind her, insuring some sort of privacy.

"Hello? Alphonse?"

"Colonel! How are you?"

Roy couldn't help but smile. Despite all the crap that Al had been through, he still managed to be civil, polite, and at least sound happy (unlike one certain person that they all knew).

They continued to chat, neither one of them really wanting to talk about the reason for Al's phone call. Roy mentally debated over whether or not he should correct Al about his rank- he wasn't a Colonel anymore- but it really didn't seem like the time or place to bring that up. He could imagine that Al would try to be happy about it, probably congratulate him and say something along the lines of _"At least something good came out of all this." _Roy rolled his eyes at the thought.

But really, the conversation had gone on long enough. "So, how did things go on your end?"

Al was silent for a while before sighing heavily. "It worked, if that's what you're asking," he replied. "We were able to get everything, you know… _done_ before anyone from the military got over here."

Roy tapped his fingers on the desk. "They didn't give you any problems, did they? Who came over there?" If anyone had in any way, shape, or form had hurt the remaining Elric, he would give them a personal roasting.

"No, they were just annoying. They hung around the graveyard for a while and asked the other townspeople some questions, but they never got violent." Al paused for a minute. "I don't know who it was, though. A colonel and some privates."

The general shifted in his seat. "They didn't go digging, did they?"

Al actually laughed, and Mustang was relieved to hear the sound, even though it was more sarcastic than happy. "Ha, no! They wouldn't dare go and risk exhuming the Fullmetal Alchemist. I don't imagine that their public image would look too great after that."

Roy raised an eyebrow in surprise. Al really understood more of the military's unspoken rules than he should. _Kid has a future in politics. Either that or he's been hanging around me too much, _Roy thought with a smirk. Yes, he was the master of improving his public image. "That is true," he replied and leaned back in his chair. "Hey, Alphonse, what did you tell everyone in Risembool? I'm sure some questions were asked."

The young Elric grunted in agreement. "There were a lot of questions about how quick and quiet Winry and I made the funeral." Roy squirmed guiltily at the break in Al's voice. "And the milk crate raised a couple of eyebrows. Whose idea was that, anyway?"

"Fuery's."

"Slap him for me, would you? That was tasteless."

Yep, the kid was all Elric. "Not a problem."

Al was silent for a moment. "You don't have to worry about any of the townspeople spilling to the military," he said suddenly. "Everyone liked the idea of keeping a secret from the government. The eastern war really turned them against the military."

It was true. During the Ishbal campaign, several towns had been used as pit stops for soldiers and there had been several incidents of fights spilling over into the villages or Ishballans attacking the towns. When Ed had first joined the military, he had used the cover story that he had lost his limbs in a spill-over fight during the war. And as Roy had learned from his first encounter with Pinako, the military was not liked very much in that area.

There was a swift knock at his office door and Roy looked up in surprise. Hawkeye stuck her head in and motioned with her hand for him to hurry up. Crap. It seemed like the Brass was back. "Alphonse?"

"Yes?"

"It seems I have to cut this meeting short," he said, nodding silently in reply to Hawkeye, who ducked back out into the main office area. "The Brass has once again decided that their free time would be best spent harassing me." The man smirked and signed one of the papers in front of him. _Might as well make it look like I've been working._

"I've heard that commanding officers have a tendency to do that a lot," Al quipped; Roy could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Good luck with that."

The Flame Alchemist glanced at the door before replying. "Thank you, I'll probably need it. Oh, and one more thing."

"Hm?"

"Don't be a stranger. Come visit sometime, alright?" Roy smiled in spite of himself. Central would be lonely and dull without one Elric; without two would be nothing short of horrid. "I'm sure Elysia would love to see you again." _And so would the rest of us._

Al paused and Roy had no doubt the kid had picked up on the unspoken words. "I'll be sure to do that," he replied quietly.

They exchanged good-byes and Roy hung up the phone. His hand rested on the receiver a moment; in the outer office, he could hear another voice. It seemed Tristdale had come back for another round.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Death was nothing new to him, but he still found himself torn and indecisive on how to cope. The alchemist in him told him to accept it and move on- that was life. But his human side told him that it was best to cry and get very, very drunk. After Ishbal and Hughes' death, he had listened to his human side, but when Ed died… Roy hadn't gotten drunk (though he had _really_ wanted to), and the fact that there was a huge conspiracy to hide from the military helped him stay sober. Havoc had told him that he was quite a chatty drunk, and Roy didn't want to risk babbling their secret for the entire world to hear in a bar.

And coming into work everyday was a sharp reminder that the world would keep moving, regardless of who wasn't there anymore. It didn't matter that the world was short one Edward Elric- there was still the damned paperwork, and the country had to keep moving forward.

It was going to be a long time before the Brass got off his back- in fact, they probably wouldn't stop until they were all dead or he was in charge. Roy cracked a knuckle. He would do his best to make sure that it was the latter; he wasn't about to let Hughes and Edward down.

The Homunculi were gone, but the country was still a mess and it was his job to fix it. _I'll do it, too. You can bet on it._

**Ehhh, I can't get into Mustang's head for anything. Oh well. Sequel is in the works, though I don't know when I will be released. Probably not until next year, so don't hold your breath.**

**But for those of you who have stuck it out, thank you so much for reading! **


End file.
